Thou Shalt Not
by Mycroft-mione
Summary: The Church of St. Lyall is running out of funds, and only Remus Lupin, the priest, can save it from bankruptcy. But what happens when Sirius Black decides to help him? / Written for Liza! / Warning: religious content.


Word count: 4,355

Written for:

August One-Shot Exchange - This fic is for Liza! I used the genres AU and hurt/comfort. Prompts: Priest!Remus and "If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?"/"Because, whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite." (Dean and Cas, Supernatural).

Hogwarts Writing Club - International Day of Charity (5th September): Write about someone doing something charitable, fundraising, sponsored event, even visiting a charity shop.

Year-Long Scavenger Hunt Competition - C1: Write about a character falling for someone forbidden.

* * *

 **Thou Shalt Not**

* * *

...oOo...

 _Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,_  
 _That saved a wretch like me._

...oOo...

Remus Lupin's hand slowed its scrubbing as his eyes flicked to the lovely view through the stained-glass windows. It was just past four, the time when the afternoon light sets in and the world slows to a crawl. Sighing, he looked down and refocused, swiping the table once more to rid it of lingering dust or debris and then setting down his cloth. There was no use trying to clean. After all, he'd completed a round of dusting yesterday, and no services had been held since then. Tidying up was just a nervous habit; although, to be fair, he had a lot to be nervous about.

There was no time for lazy days, he thought, when you had bills to pay and letters to answer and bills to pay. A stack of envelopes sat on his desk, where Remus reached in a matter of seconds. His office lay just beyond the altar, behind a door that was invisible from the pews but spacious enough once he squeezed inside.

The first envelope he reached was marked as from the local property tax collector, and Remus knew before opening it that the paper contained would revoke his exemption. For some reason, his little church didn't qualify for tax breaks, so the funds were coming out of his pockets. ...He couldn't very well ask old Mrs. Figg for a few thousand dollars... But his personal bank account would be dipping into the red any day now.

Remus fingered the papers, skipping past a useless flyer and another bill to find a single envelope, hand-addressed in messy black ink. He ripped it open, and there was a similarly written letter addressed to him.

 _Dear Father_

 _I have supported this church for fourty years and I'm very sorry to say that I must end my contrabutions to this wonderful church because my husband lost his job but thank you very much you were a wunderful priest_

 _Hannah Blythe_

Remus set down the letter and collapsed into his chair. If Mrs. Blythe was leaving the church, her knitting circle friends would be gone as well. That meant less money for the basket, but he'd miss her hackneyed jokes and warm smile. It seemed that every other day, he was losing a beloved friend or a donation he depended on.

He'd pray for Hannah. But Remus knew he had to do more.

...oOo...

Sirius Black hadn't planned to stop by the outdoor table, but once he caught a whiff of freshly-made baked goods, he couldn't resist. Cookies, brownies, and other snacks that would have fit in nicely at an elementary school bake sale littered the table. A neat sign mounted there read 'Church of St. Lyall,' but Sirius gave it a fleeting glance, favoring the sweets instead.

A slender man slipped out of the church doors and headed straight for the table, causing Sirius to look up and lock eyes with the stranger.

"Hello there," he offered, resting a palm beside a plate of snickerdoodles. The man smiled at him faintly - the man dressed in a casual grey cardigan and jeans, but wearing a silver cross around his neck. The priest.

"Good morning," he said softly, nodding at Sirius.

"Oh- I'm sorry!" he replied, immediately realizing his mistake. "I don't go here - My mother was half Protestant - Are these cookies for sale?"

Changing the subject was the best way to fix a bad conversation before it got worse.

"Yes," the priest told him. "And I'd pay careful attention to the chocolate ones. They're dynamite. At least, I think so." He stepped closer to the table, then bowed his head.

"I'm sure you have good taste." Sirius slipped a dollar into the till and grabbed a brownie. "Mmm - this looks delicious!"

"Chocolate is a particular weakness of mine. I could hardly keep my hands off them."

There was a pause as Sirius ate his brownie, trying to catch every crumb before it fell and generally making a mess of things. Finally, licking his lips, Sirius grinned. "So where did my money just go? I deserve an explanation as good as that brownie, right?"

"Of course." But he seemed uncertain, hesitating before blurting out: "It's for the children. The children's fund, a few towns over. The church sponsors it."

Sirius looked closely at the priest, but couldn't sense any obvious deception. He could've sworn... something about his voice... It was probably nothing. "Children, yeah? Well, that's a good cause. No complaints from me."

"We work very closely with the children," the priest emphasized, looking down at his feet and nudging a cookie that had been teetering at the edge back into place.

"Right," Sirius said carefully, and smiled. "Maybe I'll come to your next service. I'd be glad to put some money in your collection box." He winked at the priest, then coughed, then blushed. "I'd better go. Wait, here's my info." Sirius pulled a card out of his wallet, one with his name, address, and phone neatly printed. "They're from my last job. I made them specially."

"Thank you." The priest took the card in his right hand and held it there tightly. "I don't have a card of my own. My name is written on the sign by the front entrance."

Sirius turned to look, but the priest waved a frantic hand at him. "Not now. In a minute."

"Okay," Sirius said easily. He turned back to the priest and stuck out a hand. "Goodbye for now, then? Thanks for the treat. You were right, they're fantastic." He gazed at the platter of brownies again, licking his lips. "I may need to come back later for seconds."

"It's all for the children," was the reply, although the priest looked rather sheepish saying it. But he quickly smoothed out his expression and met eyes with Sirius. "Goodbye." He smiled, then headed back into the church.

Sirius watched him go, and as soon as he had disappeared, he raced to the front to find the priest's name.

 _Remus Lupin._

...oOo...

"Hello?"

A pause. "Remus!"

"You found my name, then." Remus sat down on the sofa, holding the phone to his right ear with one hand while holding a small paper rectangle with the other.

"You looked at my card. I knew that was a good idea! Hey, James, thanks for the cards! Yeah, tell your father I appreciate it."

"Is someone else there?" Remus asked, suddenly concerned. "I can come back later. I'm sorry, I just assumed, since it's past the dinner hour..."

"No, no, it's okay." He heard Sirius shushing the voices in the background, then a staticky sound as his hand returned to his phone. "I'm back."

"Right. Yes."

"...Why did you call? Not that I'm complaining. I'm actually quite surprised, in a good way, but I wasn't sure..."

He was babbling. Remus hid a smile with his hand, a habit that he did even while alone. "Er- do you think you could go somewhere private?" he asked.

"Sure, sure," Sirius told him. Faintly, Remus could hear the conversation on the other end of the line. "James, I'm going to your room. No, I'm not- _hey_! Don't say that, I'm on the phone!" Footsteps, then laughter. "Shh!"

"Are you there?" Remus whispered. Finally, a scuffling sound and a reply.

"I'm here," said Sirius, and he sounded eager - quite eager. Just like Remus expected. That moment, he knew what he had to say, and he let the words fly out.

"Well, here's what I've got to tell you: I don't think you should come on Sunday."

If Sirius was there in person, Remus imagined that he would be staring.

"What? What are you talking about? Of course I'm going. That's what I promised, isn't it? I'm not one to break promises, let me tell you-"

"But-"

"Is this about the brownies? I only took one. I thought if I came back, it would be rude, so I didn't… Remus, I-"

"I think you should call me Father Lupin from now on."

"Okay," Sirius said.

Closing his eyes, Remus heard a small sigh and a quiet thump, like Sirius was dumping himself onto something soft. It took all of his willpower not to shout back, Please don't hate me! But Remus knew it wouldn't do any good. The necessary damage was already done.

"Thanks for taking my call and listening. So, you're not coming on Sunday, right?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

There was definitely something fishy about Sirius's immediate agreement this time, but Remus couldn't argue with the sad-sounding voice. "Then I guess I'll see you the next time you visit the church. Please do. There are many children that need saving."

Remus didn't add: Please visit the church to see _me_.

There was no reply.

 _Beep_.

...oOo...

Sirius watched in amazement as dozens of people walked between the pews to receive their communion wafer. They were the cross-section of all the people he'd ever seen: all shapes, sizes, and races. While the adult's faces were flat and reserved, some of the children couldn't hide broad grins as they looked up at Remus - _Father Lupin_ \- from their seats. He stood by the altar with an older man, performing the ritual with remembered elegance. A cross hung around his neck, the same one Sirius had seen a few days before.

He couldn't participate, hidden in the back as he was, and his knowledge of religion didn't stretch to Catholic ceremonies, but the people all looked happy under divine influence. Maybe it was the relaxed way that Remus conducted this service, but even the kids seemed charmed by his… charm.

The adults eventually filed back to their pews, and the service ended without any fuss. People lingered by the doors, chatting animatedly, and Sirius squeezed further into his corner, hoping and praying- well, not praying - that they wouldn't notice him.

He blinked a few times when Remus approached the crowd, now dressed in his everyday clothes. The undercover priest led them outside, addressing them from the short brick steps in front of the church.

"Hello everyone," he said softly. Like an adored schoolteacher, Remus seemed able to capture the attention of all with the calmest of voices. "I know you all need to get home, and this won't take too long, but I thought it was time to inform you that St. Lyall's is in trouble. Serious trouble."

Whispers broke out, and Sirius noticed a few confused adults eyeing the freshly mowed lawn and white-painted siding. He himself couldn't comprehend the news, turning from the church door to inside, where every inch of old wood was polished to perfection, and every pew held a copy of the proper hymns.

"I know it doesn't seem that way, but that's because I've been doing it all myself," Remus told them. He looked down at his feet. "I can't afford to do that anymore. Coming from your priest... this may be painful to hear, but I think St. Lyall's will have to close." Remus raised his voice to speak over the shocked crowd. "Thank you for a lovely final service. God bless you."

He turned to go inside.

Sirius burst out of the church, nearly colliding with a stunned-looking Remus, and held up his hands.

"Wait!" he called. "Everybody! If you stay, maybe we can fix this!"

Murmurs rose from the clusters of people, some turning up their noses at his scruffy-looking waves and indignant expression, but Sirius had managed to stop them all in their tracks. A few even gave him their rapt attention.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?" Remus exclaimed. He shook his head, looking defeated. "I told you not to come."

"I had to. Something seemed wrong, and besides, you're a great priest. I couldn't stay away once I'd had a look inside."

Remus sighed, turning to the crowd. "Everyone, it's all right. Please, go home. There's nothing you can do."

No one seemed convinced, especially not Sirius, who stared at the other man in confusion. Why was he so accepting of an unfair end? Was it somehow godly to give up? He didn't think so. Meanwhile, the murmurs grew louder, and the chaos built up until a clear voice cut through the commotion.

"I, for one, would like to hear what these two gentlemen have to say. I haven't spent eighty years sitting around to stand for all this squabbling. Now, shut up!"

The old woman folded her arms and stared defiantly at those around her, who quickly settled down.

"Oh, Enid," mumbled Remus.

"Thank you," Sirius interjected. "Now-" He assumed a steely-eyed look of command. "Father Lupin, can you tell us what's really going on? All you've said is that the church is in trouble, and I think we'd like to know a bit more than that."

"Sirius," Remus muttered. "Please."

"All I'm asking for is an explanation of what you're lacking around here. Maybe one of us can think of something you haven't, or has something helpful to offer."

"It's just a money issue. There's not enough coming in to fund all the church's efforts and upkeep, not to mention taxation. Somehow we're not fully exempt from taxes." Remus shook his head. "I don't mean to say that you folks aren't giving enough. I know you give all you can."

Murmurs of assent resonated throughout the crowd, which hadn't thinned at all since they were stopped by Sirius five minutes before.

"Is that what the bake sale was for?" Sirius whispered. "Somehow I don't think the children's fund deals in petty cash."

Remus nodded at him, his head held low.

A sorry voice called out to the pair on the steps. "I could have sent more this past Christmas, but I thought the church was doing fine!"

"Me too!" someone called. The group was divided - some regretful, some not - but it made Sirius realize what could have prevented it all. A simple question.

"If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" he blurted out, turning to Remus with fingers running roughly through his dark hair.

The priest gave him a chastising look. "Because, whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite. I told you not to come today, and what did you do? Hide in the back and start a rally."

"That's different."

"I hardly think so."

Sirius sighed. Motioning to the churchgoers, he locked eyes with Remus and said firmly, "I'm not letting this go. These people - they need you. They need the church, and the books, and the prayers, and it just wouldn't be right without you."

Remus looked at him through sleep-deprived and weary eyes. "How do you know that? How could you?"

"I couldn't. I know. But if a good-looking priest can spend his life's savings to fund a tiny old Catholic Church, I think I can spend an afternoon helping him."

They stared at each other as if daring the other to argue, then looked away in perfect sync, Remus to the people and Sirius to the open door.

"Thank you, everyone," he heard Remus say. 'We'll work this out, and I'll let you know when I make any decisions. God bless you."

"Amen," a few people chorused, and the group began to disperse in two and threes, slowly emptying the wide stone path in front of the steps. Sirius held the door open for the priest, then closed it behind them as they wordlessly entered St. Lyall's for what was sure to be a long afternoon.

...oOo...

"Sharing hymn-books. Each pair could share a book, and you could cut costs by fifty percent."

"And what would I do with the old ones? Sell them? They're church property, not your aunt's old furniture."

"Get a sponsorship from someone famous?"

"I don't know anyone who would endorse a church, even if it _was_ possible."

"Find a company to do it."

"That's… a terrible idea. You can't commercialize religion."

"Why not?"

"You just can't."

Remus watched the path of Sirius's pencil as he scribbled madly on a pad of paper. Far from generating good ideas, the brainstorming session had produced a series of logical and practical improbabilities matched only by Sirius himself. The man hardly knew him, yet he was happy to offer up his apartment as their meeting place and pay for food and drinks for the two of them.

Sirius sighed, giving him a look. "I hate to say it, but is there anywhere you're spending where you could be saving?"

He frowned. "I won't cut any of the charities we support at St. Lyall's. They need our funding to stay afloat."

"I'm sorry, but if you don't cut something, none of them will stay afloat."

"Let's move on," Remus insisted. He laced his fingers together and sat further back on the sofa, resting his feet firmly on the floor. There was a beat of silence as they both were quiet, wearing absent gazes, concentrating hard on the thoughts whirling around their heads. Remus shot down the ideas in his own mind, deeming them flawed, but began to feel despair creeping in. There were no solutions, no answers.

When his eyes refocused, he noticed that Sirius had frozen, holding his pencil loosely in his fist. "Rem- I mean, Father Lupin…" the man began.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Call me Remus; it's fine. What is it?"

"You know how celebrities hold fundraisers?"

Remus immediately latched on to the idea, opening his mouth wide to complete it.

"'Fundraisers… events with large admission fees, and it all goes to a certain cause. It's like my small-scale ones, but better. That's a brilliant idea!"

Sirius shone with pride, the corners of his mouth crinkling upwards into a broad smile. He leapt up from his seat and placed himself inches away from Remus, eagerly sharing what he'd scrawled on his pad of paper.

Remus was immediately aware of their proximity, holding his breath to keep from touching Sirius's side. The man was warm, comforting, exciting to be around - his presence made Remus's skin crawl, made his cheeks flush - but he had to remain a stranger. He couldn't get close to him, not physically, not emotionally. Church business was no time to yield to temptation.

Catching his breath, he inched away from Sirius before relaxing his shoulders and accepting the pencil was being offered. "Thank you," he managed, his voice painfully empty. "Let's get started, then."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus thought he saw Sirius's face fall, the slightest bit. A second later, the expression was perfectly neutral, just like his own.

He must have been imagining things.

...oOo...

"Italian? Chinese? Indian? Thai? ...Or just pizza?"

Sirius stood by the phone book, searching through lists of local restaurants to see which would do delivery, and therefore spare them the trouble of going out. He called out the offerings, waiting to note Remus's reaction to each option. A polite smile lingered on the priest's face, but he responded little to the varied cuisines.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm not hungry."

"Oh, come on," Sirius said, holding up the phone. "We've been working for hours, it's our third week, and it's nearly eight o'clock."

"I don't mean to impose."

"You're not!"

"And… well… I don't know if I'm allowed. There's a lot of rules related to the church. What if it's against them to accept gifts from outsiders?"

Impulsively, Sirius rolled his eyes. "Food isn't a gift. It's a right. It's necessary. Also, I'm no longer an outsider. I've been talking to you all week, and I've learned-" he wiggled his fingers. "-the ways of God."

"Please, that's disrespectful." Remus frowned, looking down at his notes, and Sirius felt a weight in his stomach. Why had he acted so stupidly?

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"Oh, it's fine. I'm not inside the church, so I'm not required to feed you into the pipe organ and play a song. You're safe as long as you stay quiet and never make that kind of joke again." Remus gave him a knowing look, mixed with a hint of amusement.

He was lost for words. "There's an organ in St. Lyall's?"

"No, and what did I say about staying quiet?"

"...I'll go order some pizza."

"A wise choice."

The pizza arrived swiftly, and Sirius dug into the steaming box, placing the largest slice on a clean dinner plate and handing it the the priest. He took another slice for himself - just one - deciding that two at once would make a worse impression than he dared to give.

As they ate, Sirius turned on the television, mindlessly surfing through the channels for something to play in the background. It was the way he always ate dinner, since living alone meant a single chair at his table and a lonely eating environment.

"I hope you aren't planning on watching The Ten Commandments," remarked Remus. "That would be a bit too topical for my taste."

"Oh, I'm sorry… Would you prefer I kept it off?" he asked, startled.

"It's fine," Remus assured him. So they watched some old movie on mute, occasionally swinging by the pizza box for more food, and mostly talking. Sirius found out that the priest worked with his father, that his mother was dead, that he loved chocolate nearly as much as his faith.

Sirius told Remus that he had a brother, that he was living alone, that he wanted to be a police officer when he was a child. That particular dream was dead, he admitted, but he knew he'd find something - or someone - one day.

They had just found a tub of chocolate ice cream in Sirius's freezer and begun to eat when Remus paused, setting aside his bowl and spoon.

"I've enjoyed spending this time with you, and I'm eager to continue our work," he began. Sirius looked up, eating one more spoonful of ice cream before swallowing and setting down his bowl.

"That's great. I'm having fun too." He smiled, showing off a smudge of chocolate on his lips.

"But," Remus said with a pause. "I don't have a chance to meet many people socially, but I have this feeling that- well, that maybe-" He stopped, frowning at the rug in frustration. Sirius's eyes were wide.

"Yes?"

"I'm only allowed to have friends, Sirius," Remus said quietly. "I don't think that's what you want."

His mind filled up with thoughts as if there were too many to process; they appeared in flashes from the voices in his head, yet there was nothing to say. As he sat, Sirius couldn't help but stare at the man opposite him, trying to decide what he'd said or done that was wrong.

"You don't know what it's like," Remus whispered, filling the space. "The pressures… If anyone knew…"

A possibility nagged at Sirius's brain until he was forced to blurt it out. "So 'it's not you, it's me?'"

"Yes- that's what I'm trying to say." Remus looked at him helplessly, then continued. "I do like you, and maybe even more than I should, but…"

"And it's just the church holding you back?"

Remus closed his eyes. "It's not that simple. If I were found out, they could take it all away from me. St. Lyall's, my title, my followers. Where else would they go?"

"Right." Sirius sank into his chair, wondering if anything he said could make a difference. He had respect for the church, but didn't Remus understand that some things came before old traditions?

"If it wasn't for my situation, well…" Remus smiled sadly at him. "Things could be different. But I can't give up my priesthood. It's everything I've worked towards. It's my whole life. And God says that two men can't be together."

"And who cares what God said a thousand years ago?" burst Sirius, standing up and pushing his chair off to the side. "I don't know much about it, but I say that He wants us to love thy neighbors and be kind to people, not fight over a text written haphazardly by His followers!"

"It's the Bible," Remus said. "It's not just any text."

"Yes, but…" Sirius searched for something, anything that could aid his case. Blood pounded in his ears. "I'm sure there are archaic rules in there. Not eating fish on Wednesdays? Killing those who do this-or-that? There are things that don't matter anymore, and 'homosexuality-is-a-sin' is one of them."

"Maybe you're right."

"I _know_ I'm right."

They sat together, Sirius breathing heavy and Remus barely breathing, making eye contact and looking away. They sat there, separated by a foot of table and the soupy tub of ice cream, completely melted in the time they'd been talking there.

"I couldn't tell anyone," Remus warned. "It would have to be secret. For now, that is."

"It would be worth it," he said, and it was true. These weeks with Remus had put Sirius in the best mood he'd been in for a long time, and it felt like their work was actually paying off. A date had been set for the fundraiser, and there was a chance it would actually pay off.

But to be with Remus the way he deeply wanted to?

That would be the best of it all.

"I… I want to be with you," whispered Remus, and it was perfect. Sirius's heart leapt through his chest, and he they leaned together, lips touching, and then they were kissing, light and airy as the wind. Sirius held the back of Remus's neck, his fingers tickled by the ends of his hair, and then they pulled apart - and his eyes were fixed on Remus's, their glances never wavering.

"...If I said it felt so wrong and it felt so right?" Sirius murmured, partly to himself, and saw Remus give a throaty chuckle.

"Exactly."

And they were about to lean in again, Sirius thought, when Remus suddenly pulled away. "...What is it? What's wrong?"

"Don't want to let the ice cream melt," Remus muttered, tossing the half-empty tub in Sirius's freezer.

"It's beyond saving," Sirius said - but Remus was back, and suddenly, nothing else mattered in the world.

...oOo...

 _I once was lost but now I'm found,  
_ _Was blind, but now I see._

...oOo...


End file.
